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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669439">The Problem (and the Answer)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_here_leave_a_message/pseuds/not_here_leave_a_message'>not_here_leave_a_message</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Another fluff Fleurmione one-shot??, F/F, Fleur has a problem and Hermione is the answer., Fleur is a gay disaster but what else is new., Fluff, Hermione is pleasantly surprised., Is it even wlw if there's no YearningTM?, It's an AU so I can do that., Just two awkward teenagers navigating feelings and first dates, Like this is a feel-good fic, OKAY., One-Shot, Pining, School Dances, Set in an American high school because I know how those work a lot better than other ones., Sure is., This is just nothing but fluff from start to finish, Well it's just one school dance but ya know, Yearning, okay?, what's this??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:20:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_here_leave_a_message/pseuds/not_here_leave_a_message</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleur Delacour has a crush on the smart Sophomore in her AP Chem class, and she just does not know what to do about it, but she's got to do something, and with the Mid-Winter dance coming up, she just might...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>270</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Problem (and the Answer)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all, it's been a hot minute since I wrote a Fleurmione fic.  I actually started this one ages ago (okay, in March, but um let's be real, 2020 has been 10 years stacked on top of each other in a trench coat, so) and it took me until now to finish, but I did finish it, so I figured I'd share it!  </p><p>Plus, we could all use some fluff in our lives.  </p><p>Just some notes: this is a modern, American high school AU, mostly because I know the American school system best so it just made sense.  As it is a high school AU, both Fleur and Hermione are under the age of 18, but this fic is G for General Audiences, baby.  I think there's one swear in the whole thing lol, and it's all chaste everything: just two teens having fun getting to know each other after one pines for some time.  And, just for reference in case anyone is worried about the ages: Fleur is 17 in this, but will be turning 18 soon, and Hermione recently turned 16. </p><p>As with my last Fleurmione fic, it's unbeta-d, so mistakes are my own, I don't own anything, etc. etc.</p><p>Anyway, hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fleur Delacour was a lot of things.  She was pretty, smart, athletic.  She was the women’s varsity field hockey team co-captain.  She was fifth in her class.  She was five foot nine inches but weighed more than she was supposed to because she was also a swimmer in the winter and a sprinter in the spring, so she had more muscle than some of her peers.  She liked it that way, too. </p><p>She was a writer for the school newspaper.  Sometimes she went out for small parts in the drama club.  She was, she supposed, popular, but she didn’t pay much attention to the politics of cliques and truly, cliques were loosely formed, at best, at her school.  People had their groups of friends, but groups had friends in other groups, and at the end of the day, as long as someone was nice to her, she saw no reason to be any other way to them. </p><p>Fleur was also, technically, French: her family was from France, and she had been born there before they’d moved to the United States when she was young.  She didn’t speak with an accent and so most people were none the wiser, which she didn’t mind.  It made her pretty normal.  Above average, sure, but…normal, nonetheless.</p><p>Fleur was also fairly quiet.  She didn’t really say much unless she had something to say, but when she did speak, her friends told her her voice sounded like sunshine and rainbows and that she should use it more often.  It always made her smile. </p><p>Fleur Delacour was also…not entirely straight.  And she’d been pretty open about that fact, in the sense that she’d told a few of her close friends and none seemed particularly perturbed nor surprised.  She wasn’t sure of her label, and thanks to various online resources, she didn’t feel the need to rush and figure it out.  Fleur Delacour was the type to go with the flow, to stand out by accident rather than on purpose. </p><p>And Fleur Delacour had a problem.  It wasn’t a big or a bad one, necessarily, but it was one that ate up more of her time than she’d care to admit. </p><p>Its name was Hermione Granger, a Sophomore with a fire in her eyes that extended to the wildness of her hair.  Hermione was a young spitfire, and Fleur only knew because they had AP Chemistry together and because Fleur couldn’t tear her eyes away from her every time she saw her. </p><p>Hermione Granger was…stunning, but in an entirely different way than Fleur herself.  Fleur was aware that she herself was considered…conventionally attractive.  She didn’t really believe it herself, but supposed that it must be true to some extent, for everyone to tell her how jealous of her they were, and for boys to fall over themselves as they tried to speak to her.  She didn’t particularly like the attention, but for the most part, she could just ignore it.  Some of the boys were a bit too persistent for her tastes, but her friends could make quick work of them if they picked up on how irritated Fleur was getting.</p><p>Fleur herself had only ever blown up once: at one boy who had just caught her at the wrong moment.  As she was usually rather quiet, it had startled him enough, as well as everyone in the hall, that for a while she’d enjoyed a lapse in boys trying to talk to her. </p><p>And it wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t like boys…but she didn’t have the patience for how they acted.  And, if she was entirely honest with herself…she didn’t particularly find them all that attractive, either.  Maybe Viktor Krum, who was a running back on the school’s American football team and who was nothing more than a large teddy bear.  She considered them to be good friends, even if they rarely spoke to each other.  He always made sure to smile and wave at her when they saw each other, and they both had Calculus together and made sure to pair up for any group projects.  Viktor also lived down the street from her, and they’d been known to just hang out on his lawn, staring up at clouds and only speaking to point out shapes. </p><p>But Hermione Granger…was awkward.  She hadn’t grown into her front teeth yet, her hair was absolutely unruly, she was…normal, Fleur supposed, by societal beauty standards, but Fleur was absolutely struck dumb by the girl.  She didn’t do any sports (that Fleur was aware of), but she could still be found off to the sides of a field, or in the bleachers, nose buried in a book or scribbling away at her homework.  She had two friends who she seemed to just tolerate: Harry Potter, who Fleur only knew because he sometimes helped with sets for the drama club, and he was very sweet.  And then the other was Ronald Weasley, the boy, it turned out, that Fleur had lost her cool at, the one time she had actually lost her cool.  It’d been the year before, when she was a Junior and he was a Freshman. </p><p>Hermione herself was smart.  Smarter, certainly, than most, if not all, of her peers.  She was in all AP classes, which was…not unheard of, but certainly rare, for a Sophomore.  She excelled at the classes, on top of that.  She seemed in her element in them. </p><p>Fleur could listen to Hermione speak all day, and she secretly resented the fact that she only had chemistry with Hermione and nothing else.  Unlike a few of her friends, whom she rather envied for having more time with Hermione.</p><p>Hermione asked questions in chemistry: often, in fact, but as chemistry left little room for things like analysis and interpretation, Fleur didn’t get to watch her little firecracker light up while debating a teacher, like she apparently did quite frequently in her English Literature class.  Fleur’s friend Ari, who had that class with Hermione, would complain about whatever debate had occurred in her class at lunch, and Fleur would listen with rapt attention, because she could just…she could just imagine it. </p><p>Hermione was also terrifying, and not just because Fleur had a crush on her.  She was intense.  She walked the halls with some sort of stormy expression, or having some sort of back-and-forth discussion with her friends.  In Chemistry, she was very no-nonsense and focused, and though Fleur desperately wished to speak with her: to have her as a lab partner, to have their official meet-cute be like in the movies and the books where the teacher assigned them a project together, she doubted it would work out like those stories, and she was secretly glad that Hermione sat several rows in front of her, so that they didn’t share a lab table. </p><p>She sufficed with watching from a distance as Hermione scribbled notes or dictated a partner or group experiment at her table.  Fleur got so distracted one day when they were learning about sublimation that the green powder that had been sublimating from solid to gas over their burner ended up exploding out of the tube from the pressure. </p><p>The loud <em>pop!</em> had made everyone in the room turn to Fleur’s table, Fleur herself included, having been entirely too distracted.  Hermione had sent her a curious, if cross, look, and Fleur had blushed while butterflies fluttered in her stomach. </p><p>She’d never spoken directly to Hermione, but she had heard Hermione talk.  Unlike Fleur, Hermione seemed to have a lot to say at any given time, and she was unafraid to speak her mind, a trait that Fleur admired.  That fire in her eyes, always there, always ready, did funny things to Fleur’s insides, and she took to staring longingly at Hermione every time she saw her. </p><p>They had the same lunch period, and they would pass each other in the halls when Fleur was on her way to her World History class and on her way to her study hall.</p><p>All Fleur needed…was an excuse to speak with her.  Maybe about their Chemistry homework, or about the challenges and rewards of AP classes, or…or maybe Fleur could make up a story for the paper, and use it as a reason to speak to Hermione.  But that would involve thinking of something that would interest Hermione enough to tempt the girl to accept an extended interview.</p><p>And Fleur didn’t really know enough about Hermione to know what could do that. </p><p>She knew enough about Hermione to want to know more, like the fact that she liked to read, and always had a new book with her nearly every day.  Most of the books were actually Hermione’s (Fleur had checked: the versions of the books that Hermione read, they did not have in the library), and despite that she carried a separate notebook to write notes in, rather than just writing them in the margin of the book like everyone else.  She knew that Hermione didn’t really have many friends outside of Harry and Ron, though people didn’t seem to particularly dislike her as a person: just how much she debated teachers.  At least, that’s what Ari said. </p><p>She knew that Hermione was top of her class: that was a given.  She likely had over a 4.0 GPA and she was obviously proud of that.  Fleur knew Hermione was brave, and unafraid of challenges, though definitely afraid of failure, just from the way she would react to a slightly lower grade than she was used to in Chemistry. </p><p>She knew that Hermione had a wonderful laugh.  She’d heard it in passing in the hallway, when she spotted Hermione speaking to a young red-headed girl.  A freshman, if Fleur had to guess: she hadn’t seen her in school before. </p><p>Fleur knew little things about Hermione, but she wanted to know more.  Did she like chocolate or vanilla ice cream?  Was she a romcom kinda gal or did she prefer something else?  Was she secretly into horror movies, like Fleur herself, or would she hide into Fleur’s side if they watched one?</p><p>The thought warmed her heart.  Was she a big spoon or little spoon?  What was her sign?  Did she believe in astrology?</p><p>Okay, that one Fleur already knew the answer to, and she would chuckle to herself as she thought about it. </p><p>What were Hermione’s hopes?  Her dreams?  Did she have an idea what she wanted to do after high school?  She already seemed so much like she had a path, that only she could see, but that she was going to follow, regardless. </p><p>God, Fleur wished she had that determination and drive, she had no idea what she was going to do when she graduated. </p><p>But that was all beside the point.  Fleur was many things, but mostly, she was totally and completely crushing on Hermione Granger, and she was making exactly zero effort to hide that fact.  Unabashed staring had just become the norm.  Asking Ari about what Hermione had argued with their teacher about was routine.  The yearning was palpable and Fleur felt, truly, after months observing the other girl, that she just might explode if she didn’t say something.  Because anyone with eyes could see that Fleur was interested in Hermione Granger, except, of course, Hermione Granger herself, who seemed to have very little attention or regard for anything a few inches away from whatever book she had her nose buried in at any given time. </p><p>It left Fleur feeling desperate.  Because she’d wanted to ask Hermione Granger a question.  A very important one. </p><p>Her original plan – if ever it could be said that she’d had a “plan” and not just desperate hopes like that one for their meet-cute of being assigned to do a project together in chemistry – had been to talk to Hermione about something.  Anything.  But Fleur wasn’t a talker and she found that, more often than not, her vocal cords constricted around Hermione and her brain liked to jam French and English together, her thoughts would race so fast.  Even the thought of speaking to Hermione had Fleur blushing and biting her tongue – almost literally – to keep from looking or sounding stupid.  The expression that formed when she did this apparently made her look quite angry, but that couldn’t be helped because she’d had months to speak to Hermione, to just march up to the girl and ask her a question, or compliment her hair or her clothes or her grades or her books or…anything! </p><p>And the point of this talk, would have been to start to speak with Hermione semi-regularly.  To give Hermione reason to want to talk to Fleur, to get used to her presence, to start to enjoy her presence and their little chats and talks.  And the point of that, was so that it wasn’t odd when Fleur asked Hermione to accompany her to the Mid-Winter dance.  As her date.  For real.  Or maybe not, if Hermione wasn’t interested, but Fleur could be okay with that. </p><p>The point was that it wasn’t just supposed to be Fleur, marching up to Hermione in the hall after school had let out, possessed by a sudden and fierce determination when she saw Hermione standing alone, looking wistfully at something pinned up on a bulletin board.  The point was that it wasn’t supposed to be the first time they spoke, when Fleur asked Hermione out.  The point was that it wasn’t supposed to be so sudden, so quick, but Fleur couldn’t help the swell of sudden need she’d felt when she’d left the drama room after one of their dress rehearsals to come across Hermione, standing there in the beautiful streaming sunlight, looking entirely relaxed and yet perplexed at the same time. </p><p>It wasn’t supposed to be sheer fire in her veins and want that burned in her lungs, desire to speak overriding her every nerve until her feet were carrying her forward. </p><p>It wasn’t supposed to be how it all happened.  But it was.</p><p>---</p><p>Fleur Delacour was a goddess among men, and the way she held herself told everyone that she knew it, too.  Poised, tall, muscular and icily quiet, Fleur Delacour could be described as nothing short of regal, and Hermione Granger, for her part, could not understand what, exactly, it was that she had done to piss the older girl off so much. </p><p>Not that Hermione particularly cared.  People in the school liked to whisper about her: she was an easy target.  Hermione didn’t bother engaging and so, by extension, didn’t defend herself.  But she knew that neither Harry nor Ron would believe any of the rumors going around, nor Ginny nor Luna, nor any of the friends she had that actually mattered, so Hermione let the rumors and snide remarks slide off of her like water on a duck’s feathers.  And because she didn’t react, often whatever was being said fizzled out quickly.  Hermione liked to think she very much “stayed in her lane” when it came to school drama or clique problems or, well, any problems, really.  She knew that people made fun of her for being a know-it-all.  She knew that her peers always groaned when she debated her teachers (but it wasn’t her fault they were wrong, now was it?)</p><p>As it were, she only had one class with Fleur.  Hermione’d only ever had one class total with her, but Hermione wasn’t an idiot, see?  She was acutely aware how often Fleur stared at her.  Acutely aware of those icy blue eyes, observing her.  And if Hermione was totally honest, she’d never really been too bothered by it.  Fleur, for much of their time in their class together, had never really been particularly rude about the staring, per se.  Sometimes her brow would be furrowed, a slight frown on her face, but her gaze a million miles away.  Those expressions gave away, to Hermione, that Fleur was a thinker.  Soft-spoken, but her words were chosen with precision, and such precision had cut Ron down to size the year before.  Hermione had sort of been miffed at Fleur on principle for that, but she’d never found it in her to genuinely dislike Fleur.  There simply wasn’t anything to dislike.  Fleur was an older, confident student who had faith in herself and in her abilities.  In some ways, Hermione had to begrudgingly admire her. </p><p>Sometimes, Fleur’s stares were more innocent, looking almost…wistful.  Those ones, Hermione usually caught in the hall, Hermione half-listening to Ron telling a story or Harry asking her about her weekend, and Fleur apparently doing much the same thing with her own friends.  Sometimes Hermione could detect sadness, or yearning, in those blue eyes, though for what, she didn’t really know. </p><p>It was…odd, but fine.  Fleur could stare at whoever she wanted, it was a free country. </p><p>But lately, some of the stares had become more…perplexed, some even angry-looking. </p><p>And that bewildered Hermione, if she had to admit it.  She’d literally never spoken to Fleur.  She’d never said anything against Fleur.  She’d looked at her with a raised eyebrow when Fleur’d gotten green powder all over her in chemistry after her test tube sublimated too quickly, but that was the closest thing to an interaction they’d ever actually had, and Hermione knew for a fact that though sometimes she came across as condescending, that had been one of her least condescending looks. </p><p>The stares had only gotten weirder and seemingly more hostile, Fleur’s brow furrowing deeply, lips pursed.  Sometimes she wasn’t looking directly at Hermione, just her general direction, and other times, Hermione was just shy of catching Fleur’s eye. </p><p>She didn’t know what she’d done to prompt the sudden change, but she was a bit miffed about it nevertheless. </p><p>She couldn’t say that it was a welcome sight, then, to see Fleur Delacour plowing at her, that same odd look on her face, clouded only by the sheer determination in her eyes, fists held at her sides.  Hermione might have been alarmed, had it been any other moment, but she found she couldn’t particularly care.  Whatever Fleur’s problem was, clearly she’d reached a boiling point, and Hermione really didn’t have the stomach for social games: better to just let it all out, like it seemed like Fleur had finally come to do. </p><p>“Hermione,” Fleur said, her voice surprisingly soft but authoritative. </p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow, internally raising her heckles, ready to debate or fight back against whatever words or accusations were awaiting her in Fleur’s mind and that were likely seconds from leaving her mouth. </p><p>“Fleur,” Hermione said, priding herself on the unaffected way she managed to sound. </p><p>“Wouldyougotothedancewithme?”</p><p>It was said in what sounded to Hermione like a fraction of a second, whooshed out, Fleur’s mouth barely forming around the words, and Hermione blinked, startled that she’d still managed to catch it and surprised at the sudden look on Fleur’s face: gone was the bravado, replaced with a timid nervousness that she had literally never seen on Fleur Delacour’s face. </p><p>The words took a moment to fully process in Hermione’s mind, and then –</p><p>Oh. </p><p><em>Oh</em>…</p><p>Hermione blinked again, doubting her ears despite knowing she’d heard correctly.  Would she go to the dance?  With Fleur?</p><p>“I’m…sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Hermione said, shaking her head.</p><p>And gods, for a moment, Hermione didn’t recognize Fleur.  Because the Fleur she “knew” and recognized was poised, and calculated.  Fleur was precise in the things that she did, normally.  Hermione had seen her prowess on the field hockey field or during one of her track and field meets on more than one occasion, and Fleur could be described as nothing less than graceful: a lioness in her natural habitat, on the hunt.  Fleur was all deliberate, from what she wore to how she walked to how she held her chin just slightly tilted up, insinuating her own internal power, expounded by her steely eyes.  Fleur spoke in thought-out and slow sentences, her conclusions and thoughts having ruminated in her head until being polished to perfection as she spoke them.  When Fleur spoke, people listened. </p><p>Hermione had just honestly assumed that Fleur knew all of this about herself.  Hermione had just assumed that that was how Fleur was, and honestly, she had never even realized that perhaps, Fleur was just better at hiding her humanity – her flaws and her fears – than others.  Because the girl before her…the girl before her was Fleur, but wasn’t.  The girl before her was nervous.  Her head was tilted down, not just to see Hermione but genuinely tilted even further, as though ashamed of how quickly, how un-tactfully, she’d spoken.  The girl before her was biting her lip and sucking in a breath and was turning red and suddenly shy and not looking at Hermione at all, glancing off to her right, at the board Hermione had been perusing in an effort to kill some time before Harry and Ron were done with chess club and they could all walk to the library. </p><p>“Sorry,” Fleur spoke again, soft and melodic, her voice a near-whisper.  She took another deep breath, and with what appeared to be great effort, forced herself to look at Hermione again.  Her blue eyes were practically pleading, but for what, Hermione wasn’t yet sure.  Another measured breath, and she tried again: “I was just wondering if, maybe, you would like to come to the Mid-Winter dance with me?”</p><p>Hermione’s brain short-circuited.  It was no secret, of course, that there was a chance that Fleur wasn’t exactly straight.  Hermione had heard various rumors that that was why Fleur had turned down so many boys at their school, but as Hermione herself had very little interest in boys or dating, she’d dismissed the rumors pretty quickly.  Fleur was just shy of 18 years old, why on Earth would she be thinking about boys when her future was right around the corner?  Hermine herself had just turned 16 and she could already feel the weight of graduation.  Fleur was just one of those sensible people who had figured out that boys in high school were stupid and immature and she’d decided she’d just…wait.  Something Hermione had also secretly admired about her.  And if Hermione was honest, that stood even if Fleur truly was only interested in girls.  Good for her for not letting her hormones cloud her pursuit of her future, Hermione could get behind and applaud that.  So what if she liked girls?  She’d never seen Fleur with a girl, and she’d never seen Fleur with a boy, and it had never been any of her business what Fleur liked or didn’t like. </p><p>Until that moment, of course. </p><p>The moment in which, Hermione was pretty sure, as her brain rebooted, that Fleur had just asked her to Mid-Winter dance. </p><p>Fleur Delacour.  The unattainable goddess among men who Hermione thought hated her. </p><p>Hermione eyed Fleur, trying to gage if perhaps, this was a joke.  She’d seen <em>Carrie</em>, not that she fancied herself any kind of character like Carrie, but for a split-second, she couldn’t help but let her mind jump to ridiculous scenarios and conclusions. </p><p>But that was exactly what it was: ridiculous.  No one in the school hated her enough to give credence to her <em>Carrie</em> scenario, and Fleur, while popular, certainly wasn’t anything like <em>Carrie</em>’s bullies, so no, that didn’t make much sense.  And despite her clear nerves, Hermione could see hope dancing in her eyes: sincerity, relief.  Fleur Delacour very rarely didn’t do things deliberately, so really, the only conclusion to be reached was that…Fleur Delacour wanted to take her, Hermione Granger, to the Mid-Winter dance. </p><p>“Why?” Hermione heard herself ask, her voice far more suspicious than she felt.  The small smile that had been slowly building on Fleur’s features faltered, and Hermione nearly winced at the sight.  That had been harsher than she had meant to say.  “Sorry, I’m just…I’m a bit surprised.  We’ve never really spoken before, so you’ll forgive me for that,”</p><p>Fleur grimaced, “Ah, yeah, I know.  I’m sorry about that.  I was too nervous to talk to you,”</p><p>If this kept up, Hermione may have a damn stroke, her brain failing to process the words immediately once more.  Fleur?  Fleur Delacour?!  Had been too nervous?!  To talk to her?! </p><p>“I’m kind of still nervous, but I have wanted to talk to you for so long and now you are here, and I am here, and it just seemed like I should gather myself -” Fleur was still talking, but Hermione could just stare at her, absolutely shocked. </p><p>Nothing, truly, could have prepared her for the sight before her.  Fleur Delacour…babbling?  Babbling.  Definitely babbling. </p><p>Okay, so Hermione had definitely misread the “pissed off” vibes she’d been receiving from Fleur. </p><p>“…Hermione?” Fleur saying her name, sounding concerned, snapped her out of her internal spiral. </p><p>Hermione furrowed her brow, practically squinting at Fleur as though trying to discern if this was real or not.  “You were nervous to talk to me?” Hermione asked, and it sounded far…harsher, than she intended. </p><p>Fleur flushed, a remarkable sight.  The only time Hermione had seen it was when Fleur was competing. </p><p>Not that Hermione would ever tell anyone, but she liked watching Fleur and the girls’ teams kicking ass.  Hermione wasn’t one for school spirit – she usually just did her homework at the games – but she did like going to them, and sometimes she liked watching the teams practice.  It was nice to be outdoors and the bleachers on their fields made for a good make-shift desk.  That, and people were usually so distracted by all the running around that no one ever paid her much attention. </p><p>“I…yes.  It seems…silly, now, but I have been trying for a long time.  I was just…nervous.” Fleur shrugged with one shoulder, sheepish. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Fleur made a face, halfway between a grimace and a grin, looking conflicted.  “I, well…um, you just seem…you’re intimidating.  Not in a bad way,” she rushed to say at Hermione’s indignant expression, “I’m sorry, I’m still a bit nervous, I tend to get a big mess in my head when I’m nervous.  I didn’t want to mess up talking to you but no going back now so-” Fleur paused, seeming to realize on her own that she was starting to carry on.  She took a deep breath once more before continuing, “I was nervous because I think you’re amazing.  I think you’re incredible and you scare the shit out me, a little bit.  I’m not used to this…word vomit…” another deep breath, “And I’m not used to talking to pretty girls who intimidate me, and I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to speak to you for months.  I was getting so annoyed and frustrated with myself for it-”</p><p>Ah, that explained the pissed-off looks…</p><p>“-and I just saw you here and something possessed me to ask.  You, um,” a nervous swallow, “You don’t have to say yes, I’m sorry, it’s probably a lot for me to ask of you-”</p><p>“Fleur,” Hermione said, her voice surprisingly soft.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was pleased that her voice managed to not crack. </p><p>“-especially as we’ve never really talked, but I just wanted to ask before I lost the nerve and-”</p><p>“Fleur!” Hermione interrupted again, louder this time. </p><p>Fleur snapped her mouth shut, looking warily but hopefully at Hermione.  Fleur took her bottom lip between her teeth and started worrying at it, and okay, it was cute.  Of course it was.  Fleur was absolutely beautiful, and Hermione knew that literally half the school would kill to be in Hermione’s shoes.  Not that she was thinking of those people.  Instead, all she could think of was how…flattered, she felt. </p><p>Fleur Delacour, goddess amongst men, was nervous to speak to little old her, Hermione Granger??  She’d be lying if she said it didn’t inflate her ego just the tiniest bit, but she did try to keep her ego in check as it did have a tendency to get away from her at times. </p><p>And, well.  Hermione really wasn’t too interested in dating, and she really was up in the air on if she liked men or women or both or neither.  But, well…it couldn’t hurt to have a little bit of experience, could it?  After all, that’s what learning was about, and experience was the best teacher…</p><p>Hermione bit her own lip before grinning, which had Fleur’s expression brighten as Hermione opened her mouth.  “I’m flattered, Fleur.  I’d love to go with you,”</p><p>“Really?!” Fleur asked, looking like she didn’t quite believe it, and Hermione laughed. </p><p>“Yeah, really.  But, promise me that we talk again before the dance, yeah?  I’d like to actually know a little more about you before all of this,”</p><p>“And, is…would this be…is it okay…would this be a date?” Fleur blurted, and Hermione’s smile widened. </p><p>“Yes, Fleur, like a date.  But…um, well.  Nothing too serious, if that’s okay?  I’ve never really…dated,” Hermione confessed quietly, suddenly bashful, looking down at her books. </p><p>“That’s fine, Hermione,” and Fleur’s soft tone had her looking up again. </p><p>Fleur gave her a small smile of her own, but behind the calm demeanor, Hermione could see in Fleur’s eyes just how excited she really was.  Gods, it was cute.</p><p>“If it makes you feel better, I don’t have much experience, either.  With dating.  Or…dates.  But…we can just see how it goes.  That is the point of a date, no?  To see how it goes,” and all of a sudden, Hermione was blessed with a near thousand-watt smile, Fleur’s entirely too-perfect teeth and true happiness shining through her expression. </p><p>“I…yeah, I suppose so,” Hermione agreed. </p><p>“Can I have you number?” Fleur asked, already reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone, but hesitating, looking to Hermione for her permission. </p><p>Okay, so Fleur was a gentlewoman.  Good to know. </p><p>“Yeah, of course, hand it over,” Hermione reached out.  She typed her number in and called herself from Fleur’s phone, quickly adding the contact.  Fleur looked like she wanted to say something more, but what spell had been building between them was broken by Harry and Ron rounding the corner.  Fleur sent Hermione one last smile while Harry and Ron stopped in their tracks, no doubt startled to see Hermione speaking to Fleur, of all people. </p><p>“I’ll text you,” Fleur said, all smiles, before turning on her heel and leaving (with, if Hermione wasn’t mistaken, an extra spring in her step.)</p><p>“Were you just speaking to Fleur?” Harry asked, curiosity plainly written on his features.</p><p>“Yeah,” Hermione said truthfully, still holding onto her phone, the screen open to Fleur’s contact information. </p><p>“What’d she want?” Ron asked. </p><p>Hermione smiled to herself and quickly tucked her phone away, “She just had a question to ask me,” she said, cryptically, but the boys, being boys, let it go.  Hermione had no doubt they assumed it was about schoolwork, and for the moment, she was content to let them think that. </p><p>---</p><p>Fleur didn’t know what to do with herself.  She’d done it!  She’d asked Hermione Granger to the Mid-Winter dance, and she was over the moon, something her sister teased her mercilessly for when she’d arrived home, floating on cloud nine. </p><p>And, well…she kept her promise to Hermione.</p><p>The next day at school, she approached her in the hallway as soon as she saw her: she didn’t even care that Hermione was actually surrounded by her friends: the tall redhead Ronald, the quiet but pleasant Harry, and a blonde girl with just…the weirdest glasses Fleur had ever seen, and Ronald’s younger sister.  Fleur didn’t even care, because all she could see was Hermione, rooting around in her locker and bickering with Ronald about she didn’t even know what, but she didn’t care, either, because Hermione had a cross expression on her face that melted into a warm smile when she saw Fleur approaching, and if that didn’t just send Fleur’s heart rioting in her ribcage. </p><p>“Bonjour, Hermione,” Fleur greeted despite herself, letting her French inflection through just a tad, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione, who quirked an eyebrow.</p><p>Vaguely, Fleur was aware of the sudden hush of all of Hermione’s friends, even noticing out of the corner of her eye that Ronald had gone slack-jawed. </p><p>“Hello Fleur,” Hermione greeted.</p><p>“Ohayou gozaimasu, Fleur,” the odd blonde greeted as well, with a bow that had Fleur furrowing her brow in confusion.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, Luna,” Ronald’s sister muttered, elbowing her. </p><p>“Erm, ohayou?” Fleur tried, unsure how to answer. </p><p>It seemed to be the right response, at any rate.  The blonde girl – Luna – smiling and nodding her head approvingly.  “You seemed worldly, I figured you would understand,” Luna said, as though Fleur truly had understood a thing that had just transpired between them, but, well…</p><p>A glimpse down at the pile of manga in her hands served as enough of an explanation, and, ah.  Fleur understood now. </p><p>She smiled nonetheless at the odd girl, before turning her attention back to Hermione.  “I was just wondering, if I could walk you to class?”</p><p>Hermione looked surprised, but smiled a moment later.  “Sure, let me just gather my books and we can go,”</p><p>Fleur beamed, and it took everything in her to not rock back and forth, from heel to toe, in excitement, but she managed to hold herself back.  She, Fleur Delacour, was going to walk Hermione Granger to her class!  They were going to talk, and the idea had Fleur fairly close to full-on vibrating by the time Hermione turned to her and nodded.</p><p>“Okay, ready,” she said, stepping to Fleur’s side and waving at her friends, “I’ll see you guys later!”</p><p>Fleur sent the confused lot a thousand-watt smile before walking with Hermione, not knowing where they were going and so immediately asking, “What is your class?”</p><p>“I have AP Calc right now,” Hermione said, which nearly had Fleur pausing in her walk, shocked despite herself. </p><p>“AP Calc?” Fleur asked, impressed, and she knew that it came through in her voice because Hermione started blushing, and Fleur hadn’t even properly complemented her yet!  The sight was positively adorable. </p><p>Through her red cheeks, Hermione nodded, “Don’t act so impressed, I heard that accent back there.  You are fluent in French, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice almost…accusatory, as though Fleur had been hiding that from her on purpose. </p><p>Fleur chuckled, “My family is French, but we have lived here for most of my life.  Still, we speak French at home, and we go back to France every Christmas to visit family,”</p><p>“So English is your second language?”</p><p>Fleur nodded in confirmation. </p><p>“That’s impressive,” Hermione said, and Fleur laughed despite herself.</p><p>“It’s not, I was young when we arrived here, it wasn’t hard to learn English.  It is…an infuriating language, but not hard to pick up when you’re young.”</p><p>“It’s still impressive, Fleur,” Hermione pressed, “There are so many students here who won’t ever learn a second language, and you speak two fluently.  It’s something to be proud of,”</p><p>The words warmed Fleur’s heart, and she smiled even more, if it was possible.  “Well, thank you,”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Hermione smiled warmly at her, stopping outside of a classroom.  “This is me.  I, um…will I see you after class?” she asked.</p><p>Despite herself, Fleur felt her cheeks heat up.  She…she would really like that. </p><p>She said as much, and Hermione nodded. </p><p>“Excellent.  Well.  I guess I’ll see you then,” and she turned and walked into her classroom.</p><p>Fleur, for her part, couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as she turned and headed toward her own class.  She didn’t even care when the bell rang and she arrived late, the last in the class, everyone turning to look at her with that stupid grin on her face, and even that didn’t break her good mood. </p><p>Truly, in that moment, she doubted anything could.</p><p>---</p><p>They didn’t sit together at lunch, but that didn’t stop Fleur from casting furtive glances to Hermione’s table, and it was always worth it when she would catch Hermione doing the same. </p><p>Her friends noticed, so Fleur told them: she’d asked Hermione to the dance, and Hermione had said yes!  The rest of lunch had been nothing but questions, showering Fleur with teasing tones and subtle jokes about finally getting herself together, and how cute she looked and how she was blushing, and she knew she was, and she didn’t even care. </p><p>She, hand to god, was on cloud nine.  She walked Hermione to her classes that day, and didn’t break the habit when it could be helped, for the next few weeks, getting to know Hermione in the couple of minutes it took them to walk the halls. </p><p>Hermione didn’t have a favorite color, and she found it preposterous that people thought a favorite color could say anything about someone (“Like, what?  Yellow means they’re happy?  Preposterous, likes are nothing more than electrical impulses in brains, they have very little rhyme or reason and people trying to assign meaning to them, to me, is ridiculous.  A favorite color is arbitrary at best, not that I begrudge people who have one, but I find the whole concept insufferably unnecessary…”), she didn’t drink coffee and took her tea with “almost too much milk”, because she had family in England and she rather liked the milk. </p><p>Hermione didn’t have a favorite subject (also going on quite the tangent about how “subjects” were boundaries set by humans to categorize their world and, while useful, were ultimately limiting as “by the very chaos of nature, categories are always defied in some way, shape, or form.  It is…frustrating, because I do enjoy the clean boundaries of subjects, and breaking things down into categories does make it easier to study them, but in the end we spend more time then unlearning the boundaries to understand how everything is connected, when really, we should be focusing on the reverse-”), but she did have a favorite TV program (“Golden Girls, hands down,”)(Fleur found this perhaps the most amusing of all: usually, people had clearer their likes in subjects, not in media) and she had a favorite stuffed animal (“But don’t tell the others” she’d said, and then immediately clamped her mouth shut, blushing, as though she hadn’t meant to insinuate that her other stuffed animals would get jealous.  Fleur had laughed, because it was adorable, and had simply, honestly, assured Hermione she would keep that information between them.  Hermione had shot her a look that seemed to ask if Fleur was making fun of her, but she wasn’t.  She simply found Hermione…incredible.  Endearing.  And this new piece of knowledge did nothing more than increase that feeling.)</p><p>Her favorite sport to watch was Women’s Field Hockey, and she refused to look at Fleur as she said that, her entire face turning red, and Fleur had smiled the rest of the day, assured in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, Fleur hadn’t been the only one to have been pining, after all. </p><p>In turn, Fleur told Hermione more about herself.  She did have a favorite color, actually: violet.  A very specific shade, which she had to end up looking up on her phone to show Hermione.  She also had a favorite subject, which was Chemistry, which wasn’t true in the sense that Fleur was actually not a big fan of chemistry, but she was a big fan of Hermione, so it wasn’t necessarily a lie either.  She did not have a favorite show, in contrast to Hermione (“Hermione, there are so many, how can you just choose?!”) and she didn’t have a favorite sport (“I like all the ones I play.  I enjoy moving around.  I like being strong,” and she’d caught, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione giving her a once-over, which made her shiver a little).</p><p>Hermione had a five year plan, a ten year plan, and a twenty year plan: she knew what she wanted to study (law), she knew where she wanted to study (Yale, though she was willing to accept other pre-law programs at other schools until she could apply for their law program), and she had allowed (or so she said) for adjustment as necessary, but she was very goal-oriented and she liked to have plans. </p><p>Which meant that, as they came closer to the dance, they did talk a bit about what they were wearing, if they should coordinate, and the like. </p><p>And…honestly, Fleur didn’t care.  She didn’t care in the slightest.  For her, the most important thing was that Hermione was her date.  She could wear a paper bag to the dance and Fleur would still be just as thrilled at seeing her.  Fleur even told her as much, which had Hermione blushing and muttering about how she “certainly wasn’t going to do that, I am going to show up in proper attire, gods Fleur…” and the muttering had had Fleur doubled over from laughter. </p><p>Still, when the time came to actually take Hermione to the dance…Fleur couldn’t help but feel just as nervous as that first day, when she’d asked Hermione to be her date. </p><p>Fleur had opted for a simple dress: not quite her style, but she wasn’t yet brave enough to bring herself to wear a suit, and the silvery, shimmery holo material looked very good on her.  It hung loose on her body, not unlike a tunic, sleeveless, which showed off her toned arms and the definition in her shoulders, subtle as it was.  She opted for simple flats, and had a small bag as a decorative accessory that was, in effect, empty: her phone and keys and her license all squirrelled away in her dress pockets. </p><p>Her sister helped her with her make-up, which she kept minimal, as always.  She wasn’t a huge fan, and being an athlete, she never put a lot on: she’d always have to take it off anyway, or her sweat would.  So it’d always seemed stupid to put a lot on in the first place. </p><p>And just like that, she was ready, and her heart was hammering in her chest, and she took a deep breath before getting in her car. </p><p>---</p><p>Fleur wasn’t sure what hurt worse: her feet, from having been on them, walking and dancing, for hours, or her cheeks, for how she hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d arrived at that the gym for the dance hours before. </p><p>That moment wasn’t an exception.  She was sat on one of several chairs that had been put out for people to have a bit of a breather, on the side of the dancefloor, and she couldn’t stop how hard she was grinning, watching Hermione dancing, looking free and laughing, Fleur’s friends and their dates all with her, dancing just like her, having a blast. </p><p>It was…it was better than Fleur could have hoped. </p><p>At first, Hermione had been bashful around Fleur’s friends, and Fleur couldn’t say she blamed her.  It was the first time they were meeting properly, even if they knew of each other.  Ari had been the first to really break through Hermione’s timid exterior, telling her in a conspiratorial tone about how much Fleur pretended not to listen to Ari talk about Hermione at lunch after their shared lit class, which had Hermione blushing but laughing, disbelieving.</p><p>“She thought she was subtle about it, but Fleur’s not been subtle about anything that comes to you,” Ari had assured her, wiggling her eyebrow and making Hermione laugh despite herself.</p><p>Fleur’d groaned to herself as the rest of her friends laughed and teased her and welcomed Hermione into their fold, making her more and more comfortable as the hours passed, until Hermione didn’t even need Fleur by her side, dancing happily with the others while Fleur took a much-needed break from dancing.</p><p>She hadn’t wanted to stop, but her feet truly did hurt: the flats hadn’t been worn enough and they had far less support than her usual sneakers.  She was reluctant to leave Hermione alone, but she’d leaned over and shouted in her ear that she was going to sit, and Hermione had given her a hesitant look. </p><p>“You can come if you want, but I will be right over there,” she’d nodded the chairs, “But I would not mind if you kept dancing,”</p><p>Hermione had looked conflicted before an odd, but determined, look of confidence graced her features, and she nodded. </p><p>“I’ll stay,” she’d said simply, and Fleur nodded. </p><p>Hermione kept sending her small, cheeky smiles and glances as she danced, as though assuring herself that she still had Fleur’s attention.</p><p>As though anything else in the world could hold Fleur’s attention in that moment.</p><p>Hermione looked…resplendent.  When Fleur had first seen her…well, honestly, her jaw had dropped open. </p><p>They’d arrived separately to the dance: Fleur in her own car, and Hermione with her parents, who wanted to meet her, or so said the text she’d received once Fleur had arrived. </p><p>She’d walked to the east entrance of the gymnasium in the cool night air – thank god for Southern California’s mild winters – and had spotted Hermione and her parents fairly quickly, Hermione waving at her, and Fleur had actually had to stop a moment to gather herself.  Hermione was dressed in a pastel violet dress, nearly the exact shade that was Fleur’s favorite.  It complemented the dark and rich tones of her skin, and Fleur’s mouth had gone dry because she had never seen such beauty before.  It was a simple dress, but it was so fitting for Hermione: practical.  With enough room, enough give, to move, but fitted enough so as to show her figure a bit, it was…perfect.</p><p>She was perfect, and Fleur’d had to remind herself to breathe as she approached, shaking hands with the Grangers and assuring them she would have Hermione home before her curfew, nearly breathless from nerves, despite the Grangers being very warm and accepting of Fleur taking their daughter to the dance. </p><p>Hermione’s hand in hers did nothing, surprisingly, to ease her nerves: it just shot a knot right into her throat for a moment, choking on her words from the surprise of feeling Hermione’s hand in hers while she was still speaking to her parents. </p><p>But no one besides Fleur seemed to even notice it, so she stumbled over her words, cursing herself internally, but managing to get the conversation back on track: a conversation about how the Grangers loved to go to the French Alps every year to ski, and how Hermione mentioned that Fleur had family in France.</p><p>It had been a very pleasant conversation, with a tentative offer on the table to perhaps meet up with the Grangers the next time they were in France, if the Delacours were there at the same time.  Fleur didn’t know how seriously her offer could be taken: she’d have to speak with her parents first, and her parents didn’t know the Grangers, and the Grangers didn’t know the Delacours.  And it wasn’t like she and Hermione were actually going out: they had a date, and, well…Fleur definitely liked Hermione.  And Hermione seemed to like her back, but she doubted they were at any stage where they’d be visiting each other in foreign countries…</p><p>Though the thought of showing Hermione France was a very pleasant one, indeed…</p><p>At any rate, it didn’t matter.  Hermione’s parents bid them goodnight, and they walked, hand in hand, into the gymnasium, where they’d met up with Fleur’s friends who had immediately began gushing over Hermione, which had Fleur grinning ear to ear. </p><p>And then…they’d danced.  And danced, and danced.  Side by side, face to face, in a dance circle with Fleur’s friends, and even back to back, in some instances. </p><p>And it all led to that moment, Fleur watching Hermione, warmth radiating in her chest. </p><p>God, she really had it bad…</p><p>The song ended, another one starting not a moment after: slow. </p><p>Hermione broke away from Fleur’s friends, coming up to Fleur.</p><p>“How are your feet?  Good enough for another dance?” she asked as she approached. </p><p>Fleur tilted her head.  “Perhaps-” she started, but Hermione held out her hand, smiling, her expression suddenly shy as she said,</p><p>“Dance with me, Fleur?”</p><p>And, well.  Fleur wasn’t going to say no, her heart leaping in her chest as she accepted Hermione’s outstretched hand. </p><p>She…liked this side of Hermione.  The slightly flirtier, more assertive side.  She had always seen glimpses of it, of course, in Hermione’s strong convictions and opinions, but…it was nice to see it outside of an academic setting (sort of: they were in the gym, but her assertiveness wasn’t due to some kind of opinion or argument or impassioned rant, much as Fleur enjoyed those, too). </p><p>Hermione pulled her out to the dancefloor, to the refuge in the sea of people that was Fleur’s group of friends, now all paired off, slow-dancing to the romantic song playing over the speakers.  Fleur didn’t even know what song it was, and she kind off didn’t care, letting her hands rest on Hermione’s waist, Hermione’s own doing the same, the two swaying together.</p><p>Fleur was all too aware of the fact that they looked like two, unsure teenagers on a first date at a dance, but…well, they were.  She had only ever slow danced with some guy named Roger Davies at Homecoming the year before, and he hadn’t been her date, he’d just been…there, and he’d asked, and so she’d accepted.  Fleur had no experience in romance, or dancing, or anything.  And unlike so many stereotypes, being French didn’t mean that romanticism and sexuality just…ran in her blood. They didn’t.  She was clueless, just following Hermione’s lead: whatever Hermione was comfortable with, Fleur was comfortable with, too. </p><p>So even though they probably looked ridiculous…she didn’t care.  She was dancing.  With Hermione Granger.  In her arms.  At the Mid-Winter dance.</p><p>If the Fleur of the past could see her now…</p><p>Fleur smiled, contented, resting her head, if only just, on Hermione’s, who had her own rested on Fleur’s shoulder.  As close as they dared to get, and even still…Fleur’s body was alight with sparks and electricity.  Hermione Granger was in her arms, dancing with her. </p><p>The same thoughts went ‘round and ‘round in her head, and it truly was bliss. </p><p>Hermione pulled away when the song ended, sending Fleur such a soft, grateful smile that it made Fleur’s heart ache.</p><p>God, she had never wanted to kiss anyone in her life like she suddenly wanted to kiss Hermione, but she refrained, smiling back at her. </p><p>The DJ thanked them all for coming, announcing that they would be playing the school’s anthem as the last song while everyone filed out, and Hermione and Fleur walked the same way they’d walked in: hand in hand. </p><p>The drive back to Hermione’s was quiet, but not uncomfortably so, the radio playing softly and Hermione giving Fleur directions until they stopped right outside of Hermione’s house. </p><p>Fleur looked at it through the passenger side window.  It was a nice house: modest, but Fleur didn’t care.  It looked warm, and welcoming, and Fleur expected nothing less, honestly.</p><p>“Thank you for inviting me to the dance, Fleur,” Hermione said suddenly, breaking the pleasant silence. </p><p>Fleur smiled.  “Thank you for coming with me, Hermione.  I…I really had a great time, and I hope you did too,” she felt herself blushing.</p><p>Hermione smiled.  “I did, yeah.  It was, um…” she scrunched her features cutely.  “It was a great first date,” and she shook her head, laughing quietly.  “It feels…weird, to say that.  But it was, wasn’t it?  A first date?”</p><p>Fleur nodded, “Yes,” she said softly. </p><p>“I, um…I wouldn’t mind a second date, if you wanted-” Hermione started, practically mumbling to herself, suddenly very nervous, fidgeting with a loose thread on her dress. </p><p>Fleur’s melted at the sight, and the realization that Hermione had essentially just asked her on another date…</p><p>“I would love that, Hermione,” Fleur said.</p><p>Hermione looked up at her, looking surprised despite herself.  “Really?”</p><p>Fleur nodded.  “I…really like you, if I am to be completely honest,”</p><p>It was Fleur’s turn to be bashful, though she forced herself to maintain eye contact with Hermione, and gods, was she glad she had: a pleased look graced Hermione’s features, and it was almost too cute to handle. </p><p>“You are so beautiful,” Fleur said, without thinking, and Hermione blushed, the shade on her cheeks darkening her complexion, making it stand out all the more against that beautiful violet dress, and gods, Fleur was in deep. </p><p>“Can I…um, can I kiss you?” Hermione asked, her fingers still fidgeting with that damn thread, but her eyes on Fleur’s, serious and hopeful and Fleur’s brain suddenly short-circuited. </p><p>She – could she – could she kiss?!  Fleur?!  Could she kiss Fleur?! </p><p>Fleur blinked and Hermione, to her surprise, chuckled. </p><p>“Um, Earth to Fleur?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, and Fleur’s brain rebooted with an extra-strong kick of her heartbeat.</p><p>“You want to kiss me?” she husked, still surprised. </p><p>Hermione smiled at her, “I mean, yeah.  If that’s okay,” Hermione added, with a slight frown.</p><p>“Oui,” Fleur said, her Frenglish brain fully engaged and not caring the slightest.  “I, that would be…yes,” she swallowed, feeling her face flush as Hermione laughed, leaning forward. </p><p>It was…chaste, Hermione’s lips warm and pliant and wonderful, and Fleur kissed her gently. </p><p>Hermione separated them, only to look at Fleur momentarily before leaning in again, and Fleur met her half-way, feeling a spark as their lips met once more and gently started moving until they found a rhythm. </p><p>Fleur brought her hand up, lightly touching Hermione’s jaw, and Hermione pulled away again.</p><p>She pressed her forehead to Fleur’s, and Fleur opened her eyes, reveling in their closeness and the fact that she had just kissed Hermione freakin’ Granger?! </p><p>She felt in awe, and she must have looked like it too, because Hermione chuckled, giving her one more peck on the lips and opening the passenger door.  “I’ll see you Monday?” she asked, hopeful, and Fleur nodded dumbly. </p><p>Hermione smirked, as though she knew exactly how her kiss had affected Fleur.  “Have a good night, Fleur,”</p><p>And she shut the door, waving goodbye through the window. </p><p>Fleur waved back, touching her fingers to her lips.  They tingled with the knowledge that Hermione had kissed them, and Fleur could feel her smile grow, bigger and bigger until it was ear to ear. </p><p>And, well, Fleur Delacour was a lot of things.  She was an athlete.  She was French.  She was a good student and a mediocre dancer.  She was late for her own curfew because she was smiling like an idiot, immobile in her car.</p><p>But, above all…Fleur was dating Hermione.  Fleur had a second date with Hermione.  Fleur had had her first kiss, with Hermione.</p><p>Fleur was a goner, for Hermione.</p><p>And that was the opposite of a problem.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, who needs a dentist appointment now?  *raises hand*</p><p>Tbh I thought of splitting this into a 2-shot, but nah.  I would have still just been posting them at the same time, so seemed a little redundant.  </p><p>Anyway!  Hope you liked it!  Drop a line if you like, feeding the author is never a bad idea!  Kudos also suffice (and if you leave both, the author is very pleased!), thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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